


The Road Home

by Chrissy6299



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Sam and Deam already know about vampires, old story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrissy6299/pseuds/Chrissy6299
Summary: John is missing, Child Services has been called, Sam (13) and Dean (17) are on the road, on their own.
Kudos: 8





	The Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my old work and found this little fic. I mostly left it as-is, only letting Grammarly clean it up some.
> 
> Notes: For this story I ignored the fact that Sam and Dean didn’t know about vampires until ‘Dead Man's Blood’. This story is readable thanks to the amazing beta work of huntress69. Thanks for beta’ng it and for your continuing support! Also, thank you sammys_grl for your input and support.
> 
> Disclaimer: Supernatural and the Winchester boys aren’t mine, they belong to Kripke and co., I’m just playing with them.

Dean slammed the front door of their small two-bedroom apartment shut, making Sam flinch. Damn teacher, why did she have to want to talk to dad just when he was out on a hunt? 

John had left them on their own in Somerset, Kentucky on a September Sunday morning, after finally having some good leads on a vampire nest in Portsmouth, Ohio. Dean had of course wanted to come along, but he didn’t mind staying home with Sammy as much as he pretended to.

The following Monday, just as Sam and Dean arrived home after school, Sam’s English teacher had called asking to speak to their dad. To set up an appointment to discuss Sam’s schoolwork, she told Dean. Dean had of course given her the ‘he’s working, he’s busy’ brush-off. But this teacher was relentless.

It was now two weeks later, and while he would never let Sam see it, he was starting to get worried. Dad hadn’t called them since that first Tuesday, and every time he called, all he got was his dad’s voicemail. They both knew that hunts would take longer than expected quite frequently, but they really should have heard from him by now. There was still some money left for food, but it wasn’t much. And of course, rent was due next week, for which John hadn’t left them money because he expected to be home long before that.

To make matters even worse; after that first phone call on Monday, Sam’s teacher had called the house twice and tried to talk to Dean three times when he picked Sam up from school. All this in only two weeks. Every time he had given her short and vague answers and had ended the conversation quickly.

Today the conversation with Sam’s teacher had gone differently than the other times. She had been waiting with Sam when he came to pick him up and started asking if they were okay, and mentioned that there were people who could help them. Dean had again brushed her off, and rushed home with Sam. Now home, Dean wasn’t sure what to do.

Sam had dropped his book bag on the kitchen table and was looking at Dean, “I’m sorry.” he said quietly.

Dean looked at Sam for a minute, his hair was too long, and his pants too short because he was growing so fast. He was already five inches taller than most 13-year-old boys. Dean took a deep breath to calm himself. Sam was a good kid, stuck between being a kid and being a teenager. Luckily though, Sam saved the stubbornness, tantrums, and silent treatments for their dad. With Dean, he was usually still the sweet kid who talked too much and who wanted to know everything about anything, even stupid things like maths and English literature.

Dean closed the five-foot gap between them and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Don’t be silly, this isn’t your fault. But we can’t stay here; I’m sure she’ll call Child Services soon and I don’t want to be here when they come. Go on and pack, you know the drill, only pack what you can carry.”

“But where are we going? How will dad find us?” Sam questioned.

“Now is not the time for questions,” Dean answered frustrated and harsher than necessary, “just go and pack as fast as you can.”

That shut Sam up, and he turned and walked towards their bedroom. Halfway there, Dean stopped him, “It will be okay Sammy, I promise.”

Sam gave him a small smile, showing that he believed him or at least believed in him, and he continued walking to their bedroom.

Dean stood in the middle of the living room, looking around at the cheap furniture, most of which was covered by clothes or schoolbooks. His mind was racing; would Child Services really come? Was he making the right decision to run? Should they take the chance and stay until tomorrow morning so that he has time to think up a plan or should they go as soon they’re packed? Maybe if they stayed one more night, dad would come home.

Among all these thoughts, the one that had been imprinted since he was four, was the loudest of them all; ‘Take care of Sammy, keep him safe’. Keeping Sam safe was always his and dad’s priority, and it was Dean’s job to take care of Sam and make sure he was safe, always had been. No, Child Services was never going to take Sammy away from him. He could not take that chance. They had to go now.

Dean walked to their bedroom where Sam was busy putting their clothes into a bag. After Sam had dumped another load of clothes into the bag, Dean pulled him into his arms and gave him a hug. Sam froze for a second, not used to getting hugs from Dean anymore, that had stopped when he was eight, but he quickly recovered and returned the hug, squeezing Dean tight. He had always felt safe in Dean’s arms, something that he couldn’t imagine would ever change.

Without a word, Dean stepped back and took out another bag from underneath the bed. Ten minutes later the two bags were filled with clothes, a gun, rock salt, and other necessities. Just when Sam was making the last round, checking to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important, and Dean was taking the last ten-dollar bill out of the money jar and putting it next to the lone five-dollar bill in his wallet, there was a knock at the door.

They didn’t bother looking to see who it was, Dean grabbed the two bags, swung the heaviest over his shoulder, gave the lighter one to Sam, and he directed them to the fire escape in the back. When they opened the window there was another knock followed by a woman’s voice, “This is Mrs. Miles from Child Protective Services, we would like to talk, please open the door.”

They went through the window and Sam climbed down the fire escape first, the bag slowing him down. Dean followed, after shutting the window behind him, covering their tracks. The second they reached the bottom of the fire escape, they ran without any real direction except for staying away from Archer Road, the road their apartment was on. 

John had always insisted that they kept in shape, so they had put quite some distance between them and the apartment before Sam stopped; leaning against a cold stone wall, panting from exhaustion.

“We’ll sit and rest here for a minute,” Dean told Sam. He grabbed one of the two water bottles in his bag and held it out to Sam. “Don’t drink too much; we don’t have a lot.”

Sam took two sips of the still cool water and handed the bottle back to Dean, who only took one sip of water before putting it back in the bag.

“May I now ask where we’re going?” Sam questioned, but when Dean looked at him, he didn’t see doubt or fear in Sam’s eyes. Sam trusted him unconditionally, trusted him to make everything okay. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

“We’re going to Pastor Jim, we’ll be safe there, and it should only take us a few days to get there” Dean answered while he took his cell phone out of the left pocket of his worn jeans. He scrolled down, passing Alyson and Beth in his address book, both fine looking ladies who had giving him some memorable nights to remember Somerset, Kentucky by, and landed on ‘Dad’. He hit the send button and listened to it ring until he got, again, John’s voicemail.

Their dad was a man of few words, so the beep came fast, “Hey Dad, it’s me. Child Services was giving us trouble, so we took off. We’re going to Pastor Jim, we should be there in a few days, we’ll see you there, okay? Please, give us a call when you get this.” With a heavy heart, he ended the call and stared at his phone. Cleaning up a vampire nest shouldn’t take two weeks, he knew it and Sam knew it, yet neither of them had brought up the subject. Something was wrong, and all Dean wanted to do was go to Portsmouth and find their dad. But taking Sam along? Dad would kill him. 

Undecidedly, Dean got up, pocketed his cell, and offered Sam a hand. “Let’s find ourselves a car to hotwire.”

They had found an unlocked, old Ford in the employee’s parking lot of a supermarket and had been driving north for an hour and forty minutes. Dean parked the car in a public area and leaned over his seat to grab a roadmap from one of the bags on the back seat.

Dean folded out the map and placed it on the steering wheel. They were in Lexington, and they should take the I-64 West, they should go to Blue Earth, Minnesota, to Pastor Jim. He strummed his fingers on the map, starting at Portsmouth on the map, only a few hours northeast from Lexington.

“What’s wrong?” Sam questioned after being silent for almost an hour. The mood in the car had been strange since they left Somerset; while he and Dean spend most of their time with just the two of them, they never traveled anywhere without John.

“Dad,” Dean answered without looking up, “two weeks… it’s too long.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be okay, right Dean?” Sam’s voice trembled, and Dean looked up to see hope and fear in his eyes. Talking about it made it real, made it impossible to pretend that everything was fine.

“I don’t know Sammy, I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.”

Tears started to form in Sam’s eyes, and Dean had to look away. “So, I was thinking,” Dean started, trying to sound confident, “how about instead of going to Minnesota, we go to Portsmouth and find dad?”

“Could we? For real?” Hope clear in this voice.

Dean looked back at Sam, relieved to see that no tears had fallen, and smiled. “Sure we can! It’s just the two of us and the open road, we can do anything we want.”

Sam returned Dean’s smile, and took the map from him, ready to navigate. Dean put the car in drive and took the exit to the US-27 northeast, leaving the I-64 behind them.

After driving for another hour Sam’s stomach decided to let Sam know it wanted dinner, reminding him that they hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch, but Sam kept quiet, listening to the classic rock that was playing on the radio and looking outside. 

Two hours after they turned the car toward Portsmouth, Sam turned down the volume of the radio and spoke up, “I’m hungry Dean.”

Dean looked over at Sam and smiled, “Yeah, me too buddy.”

“Could we get pizza?” Sam questioned excitedly.

A pointed look with a raised eyebrow from Dean killed his excitement quickly. Sam knew that money didn’t grow on trees, their dad had taught them from a young age never to waste money on things they didn’t really need, such as new clothes when the old ones weren’t completely worn down yet, or the latest toys that all the kids at school had. But Dean always handled the money when John was away, and Sam never really thought about how much there was. As far as Sam could remember it had only happened twice that Dean had run out of money before John came back from a hunt, and somehow he had always managed to come home with food. Sam didn’t know how Dean got the food, he never really thought about it, never worried about going to bed hungry.

Sam was 13 now, with dad being gone much longer than expected, he could do the math, and he quickly changed his tune. “On second thought, pizza probably wouldn’t be a good idea, it would take at least 20 minutes for the pizza place to make it, which would be a waste of time. Something simple and quick would be the way to go.”

Dean let out a relieved sigh and was for a change glad that Sam was growing up. As a kid, Sam was very stubborn about what he wanted to eat. He loved pizza, and Dean could remember many fights Sam and dad have had over what they were eating for dinner. “How ‘bout we stop in Garrison for dinner, we should be there within 20 minutes?”

“Sounds good.” Sam agreed, turned up the radio, and went back to watching the scenery outside.

Twenty minutes later they passed the sign ‘Welcome to Garrison, Pop. 3846.’ Dean parked the car at the first strip mall they came across. He leaned over and grabbed a cloth out of the bag that he had packed. “Grab the bags, Sammy, I’ll wipe off our fingerprints, and then we’ll find us some dinner.” Sam did as asked, and soon they were walking further into town, looking for a supermarket. 

“Why couldn’t we just drive to the supermarket?” Sam complained after walking for half a mile. The sun was already setting, making the air feel cold, and his bag was getting heavier by the minute.

Dean looked at him incredulously “Because we’re running from CPS, and getting caught for car theft would, therefore, be counterproductive.”

Sam kicked a rock that was on the sidewalk. “I know,” he said sullenly.

Dean reached over to ruffle Sam’s hair. “You’re hungry, I get that Sammy. But I don’t want anything to lead the car to us when they find it. And if you would have looked at where you were going instead of moping at the ground you would have seen that there is a supermarket up ahead on the other side of the road.”

Sam looked up and saw that Dean was right. Not 300 feet from them there was a Kroger Supermarket. He gave Dean a silent smile as an apology and quickened his step.

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “You and your stomach, no wonder you’re growing like a weed.”

After ten minutes of shopping and a much-needed bathroom break, they exited the supermarket with a one-gallon water bottle and a plastic bag filled with a loaf of whole wheat bread, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, and two apples. Dean led them to one of the benches in front of the store, took out his pocketknife, went through the plastic bag, made one peanut butter sandwich, and handed it to Sam. “You can eat while we’re walking, I don’t want to sit here and attract attention.” With that he grabbed the water bottle and the plastic bag with his left hand and his own bag in his right and started walking.

Sam rushed to catch up, having already eaten half his sandwich. “Where are we going?”  
he questioned when Dean walked towards houses located behind the store, instead of back to the main road. “We’re not in Portsmouth yet, we still have 15 miles to go.”

“I know,” Dean responded while he kept on walking, passing the first few houses, “which means we’re 15 miles from the vampires in Portsmouth, vampires who, while they can come out during the day, prefer to come out and play with their food at night. And I don’t know about you, but I want to find dad, not end up as someone’s dinner.”

Dean stopped and looked at Sam, who hadn’t said anything yet, just looked at Dean in awe. Sam himself hadn’t thought of that yet, he would have just gone to Portsmouth and start looking for their dad in the middle of the night.

Dean continued, “I’m hoping to find an empty house for us to squat it for the night, we’ll catch a ride into Portsmouth at first light. Okay?”

Sam nodded, giving Dean a quiet “Okay.”

They didn’t have to look long; three blocks up there was a dead-end street to their left with a house that was for sale. It was a small, wooden house, painted white about a decade or so ago. The plants were growing in every direction and the for-sale sign was barely readable.

There were no streetlights near the house and the sun had now completely set, casting a shadow over the town. Dean and Sam walked to the house, on the driveway, straight to the front door, hoping that no one was paying attention. He signaled to Sam to stay put, as he went over to the window a few feet left from the door and looked inside. It was a large room with horrible wallpaper and a fireplace, but there was no furniture or any sigh of live inside. He made his way back to Sam and quickly picked the lock.

Dean locked the door behind him and took two flashlights from his bag. He handed one to Sam, but as Sam took it, Dean held on. “Keep it pointed on the floor, stay away from the windows, and stay close.” he whispered. Sam rolled eyes at him, but Dean held onto the flashlight staring down at him with a look that clearly said ‘drop the attitude’ until Sam nodded. He took the flashlight and turned it on, pointing it to the well-worn wooden floor of the hallway. 

Together they explored the house: The living room was the largest room of the house, there were two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen without appliances, and a study in the back of the house. There was no furniture, and no clothes or blankets left behind. They settled down in the study, which was more like a big storage room with only one small window so that the chances of being seen were slim, but the window was big enough for them to escape through if needed.

Dean opened Sam’s bag and pulled out four sweaters, giving two to Sam. “Here, put one on and role one into a pillow, it will only get colder here tonight.” Sam did as told, and Dean did the same. He made a few more sandwiches, this time with both peanut butter and jelly, and they washed it down with water. 

Dean made one final round of the house, checking if all the windows and doors were closed before putting a salt line before every single one of them. Content that they were safe for the night, he returned to Sam who was now lying down on his side on the filthy carpet of the study, his head on his rolled-up sweater. He took his gun out of his bag and laid it under his own rolled up sweater. He lay down next to Sam and curled up behind him trying to keep them both warm. Sam snuggled even closer, needing to feel safe.

“Good night, Sam.” 

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean woke up, startled by a sound. His hand was on his gun as he listened, trying to identify the sound that woke him. After two minutes of silence Dean decided that, whatever it was, it was no threat to them. The room was pitch black, and he had to feel his way to his bag to retrieve his flashlight. He pointed the light towards the wall, away from Sam who was still sleeping. After he turned it on and blinked a couple of times to let his eyes get used to the light. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 5:30 am, much earlier than they usually got up, but leaving the house while it was still dark outside was the smart thing to do.

Now waking Sammy up so early in the morning, that wasn’t a smart thing to do, that kid was damn grumpy when he didn’t get enough sleep. Taking a deep breath, Dean shook Sam’s shoulder lightly with his right hand. When nothing happened, he did it again, this time a bit harder. “Sammy, wake up.” He couldn’t make out the mumbled words that came from his brother, so he repeated his actions once more, this time raising his voice a bit, “Wake up, Sam.”

Sam opened his eye, turned to face Dean, and glared at him. “It can’t possibly be morning already,” he complained.

The effect of Sam’s glare was non-existing by the sleepy look he had in his eyes, and his hair was sticking out in all directions. Dean forced himself not to laugh at his little brother, which certainly wouldn’t help matters.

“It’s still early, but I want to get out of here before the sun’s up. So, get up and get ready to leave, I’ll make us some more sandwiches for breakfast,” Dean explained.

Sam mumbled some more about idiot brothers, and Dean was sure it included some swearing, but calling upon Sam’s use of language didn’t seem that important today.

By six am they were standing outside in the chilly morning air. Dean locked the door behind them, and they walked back to the supermarket. Sunlight started to peek out from behind the horizon as they crossed the road and picked a spot to hitchhike a ride to Portsmouth. It was risky, but so was stealing a car, and Dean was confident that he could fight off a sleazebag if needed, even without the gun that was resting against the small of his back. So, Dean stuck out his thumb as Sam stayed with the bags and snacked on his apple.

There wasn’t much traffic on the road, and it took 45 minutes before a truck pulled over for them. Dean walked over to the truck, with Sam safely behind him, and opened the passenger side door. He looked up and saw a 50-something guy, well built, with a baseball cap on his head and a friendly expression.

“Where are you guys headed, this early in the morning?” the trucker questioned.

“Portsmouth, Ohio, sir,” Dean answered.

“Portsmouth, sure, that’s on my way. Hop on in boys.” Dean hesitated a second, not thrilled about having to hitchhike. Apparently, the trucker noticed, he gave Dean an understanding smile and said, “Relax, I don’t bite and I don’t ask questions. We’ll just talk about sports and the weather during the few minutes it takes to get to Portsmouth.”

Dean nodded, and he and Sam got in, with Dean sitting in between the trucker and Sam. As promised, the trucker only talked about everyday things, and when they were in Portsmouth after 25 minutes, he dropped them off at the first motel they came across in town.

The motel looked like every other motel they had seen. It was small; Dean counted 14 rooms, and it had a small two-story main office/house where the owner most likely lives. There were four cars in the parking lot, but none of them was their dad’s. 

Of course, this was only one motel of who knows how many motels in town. 

Dean looked at Sam, who was standing next to him in the parking lot and looking back to him. “What are the chances of Dad staying at the first motel we check?” Sam questioned.

Dean smiled, “With our luck, none, and not at the second or third either. But at least he gave me the name he was using during this hunt. Come on, let’s get to work, I at least want to have found his motel room by the end of the day.”

Together, they walked into the main office with their bags again over their shoulders. The guy at the front desk looked about forty, though he was probably only thirty. He was wearing a dirty light gray shirt which did nothing to hide his beer belly, and his short dark brown hair looked like he hadn’t been washed in weeks. He looked up from his newspaper that was lying on the counter for a second when they came in. But apparently the newspaper was more interesting. “What can I do for you kids?” he asked without looking up.

The man smelled just as bad as he looked, but Dean ignored as best he could. “We were wondering if a John Bierce had checked in at any time during the last two weeks?”

“We’re not allowed to give out room numbers,” the man responded automatically. 

“That’s okay; we just want to know if he’s been here, could you please check, sir?” 

The guy looked up from his newspaper and sighed. “Fine, what was the last name again?”

“Bierce. B-I-E-R-C-E.”

The guy picked up the guest list, which really was just a clipboard, and leafed through it for a while. “No, sorry, no one by the name of Bierce in the last 20 days.”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other for a second, both surprised but still a bit disappointed. “Okay, thanks for checking.” They walked toward the door, and as Sam opened it, they both breathed in some fresh air. In the doorway Dean turned around. “Sir,”

The guy who had already turned to his newspaper looked up annoyed, but Dean didn’t care. “How many motels are there in town?”

“Six,” was the short and cold answer.

“Could we use your phone book to look up the information on the motels?”

“I don’t have a phone book,” the guy lied, “now get the fuck out of here!”

They quickly left, walking next to the road on the grass, heading into town. After getting enough distance between them and the creep as Sam described him. Sam stopped walking and dropped his bag on the ground, forcing Dean to stop as well.

“What?”

“Where are we going?” Sam whined.

“Into town, to look for the other motels, and look for dad.” Dean was trying to stay patient, even though he wanted to get going because he didn’t want to waste too much time looking for the motel. But Sam was giving him his sad/annoyed face, which never meant anything good. He let out a sigh and asked, “What’s wrong, Sammy?” 

“I’m hungry, this bag is too heavy, and I don’t want to walk all around town wasting time looking for motels.”

By the end of the sentence, Sam was downright moody; Dean hated it when these teenage mood swings came by without warning. But at least they both had the same goal; find the motel already so that they could really start looking for dad.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean said and had to repress a smile at the surprised look Sam gave him. “We need to get our hands on a phonebook, that would save us a lot of time.”  
He looked around him, spotting a flower store at the end of the block. “You think the flower store would let us borrow one?”

Sam had perked right up after being told he was right and was looking around as well. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that the post office up ahead would have one.”

Dean looked at what Sam was pointing at and saw that there was indeed a post office, almost hiding by the dry cleaner on the other side of the road. “Great work dude, that’s perfect. Think your stomach can wait a little bit longer? We’ll eat while I’m calling the motels.”

Sam’s answer was a big smile, accompanied by enthusiastic nodding. He picked up his bag from where he had dropped it and took the lead towards the post office.

Unlike the creep at the motel, the lady who worked at the small post office was very friendly and helpful. Not only did she have a phonebook for them, but she also allowed them to take it outside where they could sit on the bench while they looked up and called all the motels in the area.

After only two phone calls, both of which told Dean that “No, sorry, there has not been anyone here by the name of John Bierce in the last two weeks,” Sam’s stomach growled loudly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “the smell of the hotdogs is getting to me.”

Dean looked over at the hotdog stand, not more than 100 feet away from them. It sure did smell good. He gave in, without Sam even having to ask, took two dollars from his wallet, and gave them to Sam “Here, go get yourself one.”

Sam looked up from the money in his hand to Dean, biting his lip. “But what about you?”

“I still have my apple, I’ll eat that,” Dean said, trying to sound confident.

Sam gave him a strange smile and walked over to the hotdog stand.

Dean looked up the phone number of the third motel and called while keeping an eye on Sam.

“Starlight Motel, this is Anne, how may I help you”

“Hi, I’m hoping that you could tell me if a John Bierce has checked in at any time within the last two weeks.” 

“Oh, let me see, John Bierce. No sorry, no one by that name.”

“All right, thanks for checking. Bye.” Dean hung up and watched as Sam carefully made his way back to him, holding a delicious smelling hotdog. As Sam sat down next to him, Dean frowned when noticed what was on it. “Dude, why did you put sauerkraut on half of your hotdog? You hate sauerkraut!”

Sam smiled, looking at him “I know, but you love it, that’s why I put it on your half of the hotdog.”

Dean rewarded Sam with a huge smile, “Thanks, Sammy.” And he gave motel number four a call while Sam finished his half of the hotdog. The call was another bust, and Dean took a minute to enjoy his half of the hotdog. After licking the ketchup, mustard, and meat juice from his fingers and drying them with one of the napkins Sam brought, he dialed the number of motel number five.

“Ett Mar Motel, how may I help you?”

“Hi, could you tell me if a John Bierce has checked in at any time within the last two weeks?” 

“Hold on, let me check. John Bierce. Yes, he checked-in two weeks ago on a Sunday. He never checked out though, just disappeared one day. Why are you asking?”

Dean smiled and gave Sam a thumbs up when he heard that they had found the right motel. But his smile quickly disappeared when he was told that he had ‘disappeared’. He hadn’t really expected their dad to be at the motel, if he was, he would have called them. Nevertheless, Dean had held onto that tiny bit of hope, hope that was now crushed.

Dean turned his attention back to the guy on the other side of the line. “He’s missing, no one has heard from him in two weeks. Did he leave anything behind?”

“Hell yeah, as far as I can tell he left everything behind except for his car. His clothes, personal items, everything.”

“Do you still have his stuff?”

“Sure, I always keep the stuff of customers for a while in case they come back for it. I put everything in the bag that was in the room, I have it right here.”

“Alright, thank you. I’ll stop by later today.”

“That’s fine, I’ll be here.”

Dean hung up and looked at Sam who had been closely following the one-sided conversation and all of Dean’s reactions. “All of dad’s stuff was left behind in the room; the guy said that everything was there except for the Impala. Let’s hope that it includes papers or notes that will give us a clue to what happened.”

“It will, and we’ll find dad by the end of the day,” Sam said confidently.

Dean, not wanting to destroy Sam’s hope, smiled at him. “Perhaps we will. Let’s return this phonebook and see if the nice lady can give us directions to the motel.”

They picked up their bags and went back inside the post office, and waited in line, well, if you can call having one person before you a line. “Sammy?” Dean whispered, “The folder with ID’s should be in your bag, could you take the Bierce ID‘s out along with a picture of us with dad, while I get directions? I doubt that the motel guy will hand over dad’s stuff just like that.” Ever since Dean’s 12th birthday John would make an ID for Dean every time he made a new ID for himself. ‘So that no one would ever make the mistake of thinking that we don’t belong together’ John had said, and he did the same with Sam since Sam’s 12th birthday. These days Dean’s ID’s said that he was 18 instead of 17. When he asked John if he could make him 21, John just smiled and said, “Ask me again when you’re 18 kid.”

With directions, ID’s and a family photo in Dean’s pocket, they walked two miles north to the Ett Mar Motel. This time Sam didn’t complain once, and when the motel came into view, he even upped their pace.

They walked directly to the front desk, a little bell, hanging above the door, announced their arrival. A man in his late twenties came from a back office and smiled at them. “Welcome to the Ett Mar Motel, how may I help you?”

Dean stepped forward to the desk, leaving his bag next to Sam. “Hi, I’m Dean Bierce; I called earlier today about my father, John Bierce. You said that he had stayed here and that you still have his belongings.”

The guy looked over at Sam, who hadn’t moved from his spot just inside the door, before looking back at Dean. “Oh, I didn’t realize I was speaking to his son. I’m sorry that he’s missing, I hope you’ll find him soon, and that he is… you know, alright.”

“Thanks, could we have his stuff? We’re hoping that it will give us an idea where he is.”

“Yeah, sure. But I’m afraid that I can’t just hand it over, I’ll need some kind of proof that you’re his son. You know?”

Dean smiled. “Of course, no problem.” He took his fake ID out of his pocket and handed it over. As the guy looked over his ID, Dean took out his wallet in which he had put the photo and took the photo out. “I also have this photo of us with dad; it’s a few years old but…”

The guy took the photo from Dean and looked at Sam again, giving him a sympathetic look. He handed the ID and photo back to Dean. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll get you the bag, just a second.” He disappeared to the back office and appeared again after a few seconds with John’s bag. “There you go,” he said as the lifted the bag up on the desk, handing it to Dean.

Dean took it while thanking the man, and turned around, handing Sam the bag while whispering to him, “Check for money.” 

Sam nodded, and put the bag on the floor away from the door and sat down in front of it with his back to Dean and the motel guy. 

Dean in the meantime had turned back to the front desk. “In what state was my dad’s room when you came in? Was it trashed, looked like someone left in a rush, or anything like that?” he questioned.

The guy shook his head. “No, nothing like that, it looked normal, like your father just went for a ride and never came back.”

“Strange.” After a few seconds of silence, a thought came to Dean, and he mentally kicked himself for not thinking to ask it earlier. Just because Tuesday was the last time they heard from John, didn’t mean that that was when he disappeared. “When was the last time you saw him?” 

The man took some time to think, before saying, “Thursday before last, he came in for a cup of coffee around 10 am; we always serve free coffee in the morning. And then he left in his car, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Thursday, two days after they had last heard from him. That was good news, then he had only been missing for twelve days instead of fourteen. This was still way too long, but it did give them a better chance of finding him alive, not much better, but still, Dean was happy with anything that would increase the likelihood of finding their dad alive.

Sam drew Dean from his thoughts by pulling on his left sleeve. In his hands, Sam held the worn envelope in which John always kept part of his money during a hunt. Dean looked inside without taking the envelope from Sam and counted 10 twenty-dollar bills inside. He took out three, and with a nod of his head towards the bag on the floor he told Sam to put it back where he found it.

He looked back to the man on the other side of the desk, who had been watching the interaction between Sam and Dean curiously, and asked him if he had a room.

“Yeah, we have a room. It’s 35 dollars plus tax for one night.”

“We’ll take it for one night,” Dean said while handing over the money.

The man gave Dean his change and a key to the room. “Room number 6. And good luck finding your old man, I hope he’s alright.”

They thanked the man, gathered their bags, and went to their room.

The second Dean opened the door; Sam squeezed past him, dumped his bag just inside the door and lay down on his back on the nearest bed, closing his eyes. Dean was distracted, trying to get both his and John’s bags inside, so when he walked in after Sam he tripped over Sam’s bag. Luckily, he managed to secure his footing at the last minute, and didn’t fall headfirst on the filthy, dark red carpet.

“Fuck. Damn it, Sam!” Dean yelled, startling Sam. He dropped the bags in his hands, picked up Sam’s lighter one, and threw it towards Sam. It landed on Sam’s stomach, and he let out a grunt. Dean didn’t bother explaining to Sam what he did wrong, he wasn’t a little kid anymore, he knew perfectly well why Dean had yelled at him.

Sam sat up, lifted his bag, and got up to put it on the floor by the wall, out of Dean’s way. He turned back to look at Dean, who had moved to the bed that Sam had just vacated. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I just…”

“You just didn’t think,” Dean interrupted harshly. Dean sat down on the bed with a sigh, facing Sam, who hadn’t move from his spot near the wall. He rubbed his face with his left hand. He was tired and worried about dad, just like Sam was. Though having a room for the night and cash for food helped, it gave Dean one less thing to worry about.

Dean dropped his hand and looked up as Sam apologized once more, his face was directed down, but he looked at Dean through his eyelashes. He looked sad, and a bit embarrassed. Something inside Dean’s heart stirred, like it always did when his Sammy was sad or upset. “Yeah well…” Dean signed again, “Just forget it. Why don’t you get us something to drink and eat from the vending machine, while I go through dad’s stuff?”

Sam smiled a small smile and took the small change that Dean handed him. Just as Sam reached the door, which was still open, Dean stopped him. “Sammy? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you with the bag, did I?” Dean asked, realizing that he had thrown Sam’s bag on top of him, which was just as reckless and stupid as what Sam had done.

Sam gave him another smile, this time bigger, “I’m fine.” He turned and went to find the nearest vending machine.

By the time Sam got back with two Cokes and candy bars, Dean had emptied John’s bag, had put the clothes that were in there aside, and was now going through the rest.

“You found something?” Sam asked as he went to sit next to Dean, handing over a Coke and a candy bar.

“I don’t know yet…” Dean mumbled as he went through a pile of loose papers, most of which were covered in John’s scribbles. He opened the can with one hand and drank half of it in one swallow. Near the bottom of the pile he found something thing that looked promising. He smiled at Sam while holding up a local road map. “Let’s unfold this baby and see if dad marked that vampire’s nest on here.”

Together they unfolded the map, and they both bent over it looking for any markings. Sam’s shriek of pure joy alerted Dean that he had found it. He followed Sam’s line of vision and saw what he was pointing at; a circle, drawn with blue ink, just 2 miles northwest of the town border; a circle around nothing, according to the map. It was perfect, what better way for a vampire to hide then someplace that doesn’t even exist according to the map. The closest road to the spot marked on the map was Heuter Hollow Road, which most likely meant that there was a dirt road from there leading to the vampire’s nest.

Dean looked at his watch, and then back to the map. “It’s a little past three, so we’ve got a few hours of daylight left.” He looked up at Sam. “You want to go, and see if we can find the Impala? Dad probably parked it somewhere near, out of sight. Then at least we’ll have some wheels and hopefully more weapons, if we’re really lucky, maybe even some dead man’s blood.”

Sam nodded, happy now that they had an idea of where to look.

“Good, we’ll see what time it is when we find the car and take it from there.”

“Are we going to walk there?” Sam asked, not complaining, but not happy with the prospect of walking all the way either.

“Nah, I want to get there quickly. I’m hoping that we’ll be able to find dad before sunset. I’ll ask the guy at the front desk if there is someone who can give us a lift, if not, then we’ll hitch hike again.”

Dean finished his Coke, threw it in the trash can that was standing near the lone chair in the room, and started on his candy bar. “I’ll go and ask, you stay here and put all the weapons we’ve got in one bag.”

Luck, it seemed, was on their side; the motel owner’s wife, Mrs. Dickson, was happy to help them out by driving them. The road was only a few miles from the motel, and in the short time it had taken to get there, Dean had answered all of Mrs. Dickson’s meddling question in such a way that told her nothing and politely brought the point across of ‘mind your own business’.

With John’s map in hand, Sam and Dean sat on the back seat of Mrs. Dickson’s dark green SUV, looking out to their right, searching for a dirt road, or any other road that was not on the map.

A mile further than where Dean had expected, both Sam and Dean saw a dirt road, somewhat hidden by overgrown plants. “Stop, stop, it’s right there,” Dean said excitedly to the woman.

She pulled over to the side and came to a full stop.

“Could you go back about 50 yards? It was right there.” Dean asked, and Mrs. Dickson did as told, even though she had not seen the dirt road herself.

“You want to go in here?” She questioned incredulously.

“Yep,” Sam answered confidently, “this is the closest road to dad’s mark on the map, so this is where he went.”

“All right,” Mrs. Dickson said, clearly not convinced, yet she went ahead and took the dirt road. “What are we looking for here?”

“A black, 1967 Chevy Impala, it should be parked somewhere off the road, hidden from plain sight,” Dean explained.

They followed the road deep into the woods, driving slowly along the road’s sharp twists and turns. The tire tracks in the ground before them were the only thing that kept them from doubting that they were indeed on the correct road.

Sam had been appointed the rear-view window, looking at everything they had already passed from a different view, while Dean looked out to the right from the back seat, and Mrs. Dickson looked out to her left.

After what seemed forever, or at least two miles of driving in silence, Sam spoke up, “Stop!” 

Mrs. Dickson responded right away, coming to a complete stop.

Dean turned around next to Sam to look at what Sam had found. “What do you have, Sammy?”

Sam pointed toward the trees on his right side. “There at two o’clock in the trees, something is glistening.”

It took Dean a few seconds to spot what Sam was talking about, but he did see it; something in the forest was reflecting light. “I see it,” he squeezed Sam’s shoulder lightly, “let's go check it out.”

Dean told Mrs. Dickson that they would be right back, leaving her in the car while they made their way into the forest. There were no tracks to suggest there had ever been a car, but 25 feet into the forest, parked in a wide gap between the trees stood the Impala, as beautiful as ever.

Five minutes later, after thanking Mrs. Dickson and sending her on her way, they opened the trunk with the spare key. Except for John’s favorite gun and knife, all the weapons were still there, including, as they had hoped, a bottle of dead man’s blood. Dean took one knife out, dipped it in the blood and handed it to Sam. Then he took his own favorite knife out of the bag Sam packed and dipped that one in the dead man’s blood as well. Before closing the trunk, he took out John’s sawed-off shot gun and checked to make sure it was loaded.

“That won’t kill them,” Sam said, amused at Dean’s choice of weapon.

“I know, but it will slow them down a bit if we need to make a run for it. I’m of course hoping to make it in and out without them noticing, but, you know…” Dean picked up his bag and put it in the trunk so that all they had to carry were the two knives and the shotgun. “Anyway, we first have to find where they’re holding up. We still have some daylight left, let’s first see if we can find it in time, then we’ll work out the plan.”

Together they followed the sand road while staying a few feet in the forest so that they wouldn’t leave footprints in the sand. Sam was leading, so that Dean could keep an eye on both him and their surroundings. After walking for about 10 minutes the forest thinned out and revealed an old, worn-down home made out of stone with a covered porch keeping the sunlight out, and 3 dark colored pickup trucks parked in front of it. They crouched down and took a few minutes to obverse the place. The house looked out of place here in the middle of the forest, it looked like a house you would find in suburbia, with a lot of windows, even a few down low near the ground, indicating that there was a basement.

“What do you think?” Sam asked softly after two minutes, while still looking at the house.

Dean sighed, not happy with the situation. “Three cars indicate too many vamps inside for my liking, and the Impala is too far away if we would have to make a run for it.”

“We could wait until some of them leave, and then go in,” Sam suggested.

“Nah, if they have prisoners, then they would at least leave two here to stand guard, two who will be fully awake.”

“I can fight,” Sam said confidently “We can take out two vamps together.”

Dean smiled, looked at Sam, and reached out to ruffle Sam’s hair. “You’re a good fighter Sam, but vampires are strong and fast. Let’s take them on together, one at a time, if it comes to that, okay?”

Sam huffed, but didn’t argue,

Dean looked at his watch and then back at the house. “We’ve got 30 minutes of sunlight left. I want to look through one of those basement windows and see if they’re holding dad in there.” He knew that the chance of finding their dad alive was small, but he pushed that thought aside, dad had to be alive, he just had to. He looked back at Sam “Stay low and follow me.”

Sam nodded his head once and Dean made his way to the house quietly, with Sam on his tail. They stopped in-between two windows that were only an inch above the ground. They were wide and just barely high enough for an adult to fit through.

Dean signed for Sam not to move while he looked through the window to his left. He could see a wooden staircase on the left wall, the floor was bare concrete, and next to the stairs there was a guy sitting on a simple wooden chair, his head lolled to the side, appearing to be asleep. A guard, he thought hopeful, but what he was guarding Dean could not see from this position.

He turned back to Sam who was anxiously waiting. “One guard, asleep, with no weapon in sight.” Dean whispered to Sam, “Your turn.” he directed, and looked around to make sure they were still safe, while Sam looked through the window on his right.

After only a few seconds Sam turned back to Dean with an impossibly wide smile on his face, and right away Dean felt the weight on his shoulders melt away. “It’s dad, Dean” Sam exclaimed excitedly yet still softly. “He’s in a cage just to the right of this window, and there is a second cage to the left of his, with a woman inside. They’re asleep, but they’re there.”

“A second guard?” Dean asked, to which Sam shook his head.

Dean took a deep breath and thought for a minute. He had already checked; the window he could open without a problem, and he and Sam could most likely get inside without waking the guard. But the chance of opening the cages and getting their dad and the other victim out without waking the vampire was slim to none. They would have to take out the vampire without him being able to yell and wake the others.

Dean took another deep breath and looked at Sam, he was not going to like this.

“What?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Stay here while I kill the vampire, then come in...”

“What! No way.” Sam interrupted, “You just said we should take them out together.”

“I know, but if that vamp wakes up and yells, waking up the others before I can kill it, we’re screwed. If that happens with you still out here, you can run.”

“But…”

“Damn it, Sammy! I won’t risk getting you killed, I won’t. We either do it my way or we go back to the motel and think up another plan.”

“’kay,” Sam responded sullenly, “we’ll do it your way.”

“Promise me, Sam, promise that if the rest wakes up you run; take the Impala, get out of town and call Pastor Jim to come and get you,” Dean begged.

With tears in his eyes, Sam nodded, “I promise.”

Dean reached out and rubbed Sam’s upper arm, trying to convey that everything would be all right. He lifted the window to his left open, going through it, and easing himself down. Once he had both feet on the floor, he first turned his head to make sure that the vampire on the wooden chair was still asleep, before looking up at Sam who was looking straight at him. Dean signed to Sam to look away, not wanting him to see him kill the vampire. The only way to kill them was to decapitate them, and while it was a monster and they deserved to be killed, the vamp still looked human and it would be bloody.

But Sam shook his head, refusing to take his eyes off Dean.

Dean shook his head at his brother’s stubbornness, but accepted Sam’s refusal, mostly because he didn’t want to waste precious daylight arguing. He walked over to the vampire; his steps soundless. His shotgun was hanging on his left shoulder, useless at this time, and his knife, with a blade extremely sharp but barely the size of the guy’s neck, in his right hand.

He positioned the knife just in front of the vampire’s throat and held his breath. His mind focused on the kill, leaving no room for doubting questions such as ‘Am I sure this is a vampire? Will the knife cut through the bone?’ The vampire was still asleep with his head leaning to the side, so Dean reached out with his left hand to the vampire’s chin and within a second he lifted the vamp’s chin up straight, the vampire opened his eyes, bared his fangs and Dean’s knife sliced through the vamp’s neck as if it was butter. The head fell to the floor with a dull thumb and Dean released his breath.

Dean looked up to Sam who was still outside the window now staring at him with wide eyes. He walked over and helped Sam inside. Ignoring the headless body still sitting on the chair, they walked over to the two cages on the other side of the room. Both their dad and the woman were still asleep, they looked dirty and beaten up, their dad more so than the woman, but their chests were rising with every breath they were taking, the only indication that they were alive. There was no sign of water or food in the cage. The only thing in the cages besides its prisoner was what looked like a toddler’s training potty, obviously meant to be used to relieve themselves in.

Dean had been so concentrated that he hadn’t noticed the horrible smell in the basement; his brain had probably ignored it as something unimportant. But he smelled in now alright, it was horrible, and he had to force himself not to gag.

“Can you try to pick that lock?” Dean asked Sam as he pointed to the woman’s cage.

Sam nodded, happy to be able to do something useful, and accepted one of several lock-picks that Dean had taken out of his jeans back pocket. 

They each worked on their own lock for a minute, silently working side by side. Dean was the first to unlock his, and he slowly opened the cage door, which surprisingly did not squeak. He made his way to his dad and softly called out to him without touching him, not wanting to startle him. “Dad, wake up, it’s me Dean.”

John slowly opened his eyes and blinked. “Dean?” He asked, his voice sounding very rough.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dean put his hand on his dad’s leg and squeezed a softly, hoping that the contact would help him. “You need to wake up, Dad, so that we can get out of here.”

John slowly sat up a bit, trying to look over Dean’s shoulder. “The vampire?”

“He’s dead, Dad, now let’s get you out of this cage quietly.”

The cage was not high enough to stand in, and John was weak, but together they made it out of the cage and got John standing on both feet while holding on to the wall. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Dean said and turned to see how Sam was doing.

Sam, in the meantime, had been able to unlock the second cage and had just woken up the now confused woman. Sam was quietly talking to her, while Dean looked her over from outside the cage. She was in her mid-twenties, had long brown hair, slim, maybe five foot four, and was wearing jeans with a short sleeve top. On her right arm he could see two sets of teeth marks.

They appeared to have been used as food, probably as back-up for a quick bite every now and then when the vampires didn’t want to go out to hunt. That would explain not only multiple bites but also why they were still alive, yet weak from lack of blood.

Dean was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of something moving upstairs. Everyone in the basement froze for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. After a few seconds, it was quiet again upstairs and everyone downstairs got moving again. They only had about 10 minutes of daylight left; they had to get out of there fast.

Sam had convinced the woman to start moving, and together they were getting out of the cage. Dean went over to the dead vampire and lifted its body from the chair. He heard the deep breath intake from behind him as the woman must have looked Dean’s way and have seen the headless body, but Sam talked softly to her and kept her calm and quiet. That was one talent Sam had that Dean and John lacked, social skills. John and Dean could get most people to do what they wanted, but Sam had actual social skills and was able to connect with people.

Dean took the chair over to the open window, making it easier for them to get out. He looked back at the rest; the woman, who he learned later was named Tracy’ was leaning heavily on Sam, and their dad was still holding onto the wall. They better be able to get out of here without the vamps noticing it, because they were in no shape to run. He made his way over to John, “Come on dad, lean on me, it’s time to go.” Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded his head as answer to Dean’s silent question of whether Sam was okay dealing with Tracy.

The four of them made their way to the window. “You go first, Sam, and help from above.” Dean directed. Together they got Tracy and John outside without much trouble, and more importantly, without waking up the vampire. But the sun was going down and the vampires would wake up on their own soon. Dean took John’s arm and swung it over his shoulder, and Sam copied him with Tracy. “Okay, we’re going to walk as fast as we can, we’re going to walk through the forest to try and stay out of sight, please watch your footing so that you don’t trip.” Everyone nodded and together they set out in the direction of the Impala.

They went slower than Dean had hoped, but they were moving at a steady pace. Both Sam and Dean were listening for any sign of the vampires and frequently looked behind them. The sun had gone down five minutes ago, and it was only a matter of time before they would notice that their prisoners were gone.

John and Tracy had been quiet so far, focusing all their energy on walking, so Dean was surprised when John said his name. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Are you and Sammy okay, son?”

Dean smiled at his dad’s tendency to worry about everyone but himself and helped his dad step over a fallen branch before answering. “Yeah, we’re okay Dad.”

After five more minutes of walking, both Sam and Dean froze at the same time, hearing a car coming their way. “Want to walk deeper into the forest?” Sam asked.

Dean agreed and they walked in the direction away from the sand road for maybe 30 seconds before Dean told everyone to get down, 2 seconds later they saw one of the pick-up trucks passing them. “Okay, lets get moving, and a bit faster this time okay, we’re almost there.” Dean tried to encourage.

They started walking again and Dean was now on the lookout for the Impala, not wanting to pass it. 

“Dean?” John called out again. 

“Yeah, Dad?” Dean sighed, torn between being happy that his dad was talking, he hated seeing his dad so weak and he was frustrated that he wanted to talk now while they were working hard on getting away before the vampires caught up with them. 

“What’s Sam doing here?”

Ah yes, the ‘what were you thinking bringing Sam into this dangerous situation’ speech. He knew it was coming, but now was not the time for it, so he answered, “The same as I am, Dad, saving your ass.”

John glanced over to Dean, before focusing once again on where he was walking. “Right.” And with that he let it go, for now.

Sam again spotted the Impala before Dean did and whispered “Dean,” to get his attention and pointed in the direction of the car. They were a hundred feet away when they heard yelling in the distance behind them.

“Shit! Come on guys, walk faster, we’re almost there” Dean said as he started half dragging John along. Sam was a few feet behind him, doing the same, though after this hunt he had it for a while with all that walking.

By the time they made it to the Impala, the noises were closer but not yet within sight. Sam and Dean got their dad and Tracy quickly in the backseat and then got in themselves. Knowing that the vampires were now almost on them, Dean handed Sam the shotgun, turned the key, and put the car in reverse and he said to him: “Open your window and shoot anything that moves.”

Sam did as told and just as they turned onto the sand road he saw a vampire not 10 feet behind the car on his side of the road and pulled the trigger, hitting the vampire right in the chest. As Dean predicted, it slowed the vampire down, and by the time it was ready to advance on them again Dean had put the car in drive and floored the gas paddle.

Dean looked in his rearview mirror and saw that two more vampires that joined the one that Sam had shot, but they didn’t give chase, and there was no pick-up truck behind them either, at least not yet. He was going at least 50; with the twists and turns he knew were coming up and the fact that he was driving on sand he didn’t dare to go faster.

After a few turns in the road it evened out a little bit and Dean glanced in the mirror again, this time looking at the two sitting in the back. “How are you two holding up?” He asked.

Tracy answered first, “I’m alright, thank you both so much for getting us out of there, I thought I was going to die there.” Dean was impressed that she was calm and managed to say that whole sentence after all that had happened, she must have been exhausted. And he was convinced that she was indeed going to be alright, once they would get on the main road that is.

Apparently, the vampires didn’t care too much about their prisoners, because they made it to Heuter Hollow Road without any more trouble. That meant of course that they would just get new prisoners, and they would still go out and feed. But as far as Dean was concerned that was another hunter’s problem. He wanted to take Sam and their dad far away from here, California sounded far enough.

They first stopped at the hospital. Dean helped Tracy out of the car and took her into the ER. He told a nurse that he had found her in this condition on the side of the road, and he disappeared before they could ask their prying questions.

From the hospital, Dean drove them to the motel, where John took a shower and got bandaged up by Dean as best he could, while Sam put all their stuff in the car. Besides bite marks, blood loss, and dehydration, John was alright. Dean got him some clean clothes, water, and the apple that Dean himself had never gotten around to eating, and they were ready to hit the road. While everyone was tired and hungry, they all agreed that food and sleep could wait until this town was far behind them.

As they passed the ‘You’re now leaving Portsmouth’ sign Dean looked at their dad, who had closed his eyes to rest for a bit, in the seat next to him, and then in the rearview mirror at Sam, who was already asleep. They were all safe and they were together, everything was the way it should be, and Dean felt like he was home again.

“Dean” His father called out while keeping his eyes closed.

“Yeah, Dad?”

John opened his eyes, looked at his oldest son, and waited until Dean was looking at him before asking with a stern voice “What was Sam doing back there in the basement of a vampire’s nest?”

Dean looked back at the road and smiled to himself; yep, everything was the way it should be.

The End.


End file.
